Never Bow
by Arkenshield
Summary: 'This is the story of how he died at my words...'


'You hold your head high, brother,' I had told him, 'The Sons of Durin never bow to a lesser soul.'

I remembered seeing him nod. It was a hesitant dipping of his head, twice. I knew he was scared, but I knew my brother understood.

Kíli was not a doubtful soul, no. But this was a time of war, an hour of death, a moment of farewell.

And I knew I understood.

Balin once said that wise words always yielded a promising result - spoken like a true dwarf, he did - and indeed I thought those words were wise. I was a fool.

Though, should I ever have expected them to bring an end to it all?

It was a bloodbath.

The sheer intensity of the battle overwhelmed me. The raging war was demented, howling like a deranged wolf in the night. It's blazing eyes burned, its roaring ferocious as it mercilessly tore through flesh and bones like a dying, starved beast. The screeching flames roamed high as the heavens, and engulfed everything within.

Fire was burning, my kins were falling.

He would not die now, but soon, he would.

Thorin's bloodied hand fell from mine as the light left his blue eyes and darkness took him.

Then, I suddenly felt calm, calm like I never did before.

Because nothing mattered.

Not anymore.

It was then that realisation began to dawn on me: it was ending in fire, and we would all burn together.

Do not ever bow, my brother.

* * *

Kíli was bound.

And so was I.

There were ropes binding my wrists together, and a tall figure, nasty and large, gripped my hair tight and held me in place. I didn't think it should need to, though, not really. I would not have moved. What was there to struggle against when I knew not whose war it was that I was fighting? I was bound, I knew as much, and there I remained.

What was all this for?

No, not the gold in Erebor.

Don't bow, my brother. Never bow.

My brother stood a distance away, but he could not see me. The orcs had his eyes tied, a lasso around his neck, and were choking him down for he would not remain still. Kíli's hands were free, still gripping that faithful bow loaded with an arrow, but I knew he was too close to his captors to aim a shot, and I knew that he knew it too.

Suddenly, an orc forced my brother's hands, along with the drawn bow, so that the arrow was pointing towards the unconscious form of uncle.

Our uncle who lay limp on the ground.

'Release the bow string,' sneered the orc chieftain, 'Or take a bow to your new master, Durin mongrel!'

I could see my brother stiffening. He could not see, and he did not know.

'No.'

I heard him reply, and I was glad.

For he would not bow.

He would not bow. Instead, Kíli angled his bow up the fastest he could, and with a cry, aimed a kill at the orc chieftain he could not see.

The bow was knocked, and the arrow flew. The bond fell from Kíli's face, and our gazes met anew.

...Don't bow, my brother. Oh, don't you ever bow...

I saw Kíli's brown eyes widening with trepidation, as the arrow sailed straight and sharp, drawing close,

...And embedded its tip, faithful and true, right through my throat...

'It's alright,' I remember mouthing the words to him.

...But oh, he was so far away.

I knew he couldn't hear me, for I saw my brother kicking, scrambling, screamed, and I winced at the pain of it. My breath was gone, my throat constricted. He could not hear me, and he never again would.

'Don't cry, Kíli,' I whispered to silence, hoping that it would carry my words over, 'Don't ever.'

He was frowning, but I did not wish him to. There was no point frowning when you could smile. Don't cry, Kíli. Don't you cry.

So I smiled and said to him, 'Everything will be fine.'

As the tang of copper filled up my throat, and the world collapsed behind my eyes, I saw a blade, bathed in blood, shining in the last light from the sky.

At that moment I almost laughed with joy. For the blade was red, oh such a beautiful shade of red!

Its glistening tip was placed at my brother's neck, but Kíli stood tall and looked straight at me in the eye.

He smiled.

The blade flashed.

And I smiled.

For the Sons of Durin had never bowed, not even when they died.


End file.
